


Cravings

by JetBlackGoldfish



Category: Political RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 15:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13616736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetBlackGoldfish/pseuds/JetBlackGoldfish
Summary: Muammar is in Romania, and has an incredibly strong craving for chocolate





	Cravings

'I need chocolate,' Muammar said breathlessly, looking into his Romanian lover's eyes and trying to catch his breath after another intense makeout session.

'Muammar, for goodness' sake. You've ruined it!'

'Plenty of our makeout sessions have been ruined for us in some way - someone knocking on the door, the phone ringing, you shitting yourself because you think your wife's going to find us - actually, that's understandable.'

'Why do you have this chocolate addiction?! Is it because you know I hate it?'

'It only started when I fell for you... I never cared much for it before then. Now I'm craving it.'

'It's all in your head.'

'I'll be back in a few minutes, I'm going to see if we have any.'

''We?' Dragă, you know I love you but you can't keep talking about this apartment and raiding the kitchen as if you actually live here.'

There was a short silence. This was a harsh reminder that they could never properly be together. 'Where's my shirt, habibi?'

'Here,' Nicolae said, throwing the shirt to Muammar and leaning over to spank him. Muammar giggled as he buttoned the shirt, then left the room, searching for chocolate.

It was a balmy summer evening in Bucharest. The curtains to the kitchen windows, like all the other curtains in this apartment, were permanently closed. Before he started his search for chocolate, Muammar moved one of the curtains ever so slightly. Outside there was a sunset - nothing to make you reach for a camera, but not too pale either - nice shades of pale yellow and peach.

Being an important Arab figure, Muammar knew how important security was, but he could never live like this - closed curtains, only living on raw vegetable juice when abroad, burning outfits after only wearing them once and having ALL your food tested - what sort of a life is that? Moving away from the window, Muammar found himself wondering why he was so drawn to this extremely paranoid, middle-aged man. He could think of all the reasons why, but decided it was just one of those things: despite the paranoia and sometimes childish tantrums and outbursts he loved him anyway, he couldn't just stand there in the kitchen all evening and besides, he really needed chocolate.

But there wasn't any. Nothing made with cocoa or even remotely chocolatey, but this wasn't helped by Muammar's limited understanding of the Romanian language.

_Ugh why do I crave it so? It's almost menstrual... Muammar you can't menstruate... but why are you craving chocolate so much... because you're helplessly in love..._

He went back upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door. 'Can I come in?'

'I know it's you, Muammar, but that was not the authorised knock. You could be an assassin for all I know.'

 _Fiiine..._ He knocked 'properly' this time. 'Can I come in, please?'

'Yes, you may enter.'

Muammar entered the bedroom and said, with slight urgency, 'Habibi, we have no chocolate.'

'Of course we don't, I hate it, makes me sick.'

'I'm going out,' Muammar said, realising he had a lot of Romanian lei in his pocket, enough to buy the whole chocolate aisle in a supermarket.

'You can't go out on your own! Not for some ridiculous craving!'

'I've never craved a foodstuff more in my life, Nico. It's like an overwhelming urge.'

'You're not going out without a minder. Besides, you still can't speak Romanian properly.'

'I'm trying my best, you little khara - but seriously, could you sort out this minder for me please?'

'You just called me a khara, you rahat!'

'OK, I'm sorry - _please_ could you sort this minder out for me?' In a very soft voice, he spoke into Nicolae's ear. 'I'll happily repay you, any way you want.'

'All right, fine, I'll sort it.'

 

 

  
After a short phone conversation, a stern-looking minder arrived, carrying a gun.

'Mr Gaddafi?'

'Yes?'

'I hear you wanted to venture outside. My name is Dumitru and I shall be accompanying you.' Dumitru then addressed Nicolae. 'Dearest Conducător, is he really going out just to buy chocolate?'

'Yes, he insists, says it's like an overwhelming urge.'

There was a short, awkward silence. 'Come along, Mr Gaddafi.'

 

 

Outside, it was lovely and warm - only the slightest summer breeze, and not uncomfortably hot. The sunset had now reached its peak, having turned brighter yellow and orange, and now a bright pink had entered the sky. Muammar insisted on walking ahead of Dumitru, and, still desperately craving chocolate, had become rather thoughtful.

First thing tomorrow he'd be on a plane, back to Libya. He wouldn't be seeing his Romanian habibi for months after that. Months of restless, sleepless nights, wearing fancy Romanian shirts that were too short for his lean, wiry frame - the buttons didn't even fasten properly. Months of hugging his pillow, occasionally with tears streaming down his cheeks from missing his habibi so much...

Surely Nico felt the same? Did he stay up all night, thinking about him? He knew for a fact that he'd once (deliberately) left a shirt behind, because just the other night he'd seen Nico wearing it, and it had been far too long for his short and squat build... did Nico ever hug his pillow and cry from missing his Libyan dragă? Muammar didn't know, but was quite sure at least part of this was true. He saw that light in his eyes when he met Nico at the airport...

Now Muammar had to try and get his mind in order: he had found a shop, and it seemed like the sort of shop that sold chocolate - even the little bars would do.

He was correct - this little shop, the Romanian equivalent of a corner shop or a mini-mart, did sell chocolate. It felt quite unusual, standing there trying to decide which chocolate he wanted while an armed minder stood beside him. In the end he bought one of almost everything - milk, dark, white, pistachio, almond, minty, orange-flavoured, dark and extreme... but not caramel, that was too sticky for him.

The cashier looked very surprised. 'Are you Gaddafi?'

  
'Maybe,' he answered with a laugh.

  
'You are, aren't you?'

  
'Yes.'

  
The cashier was starstruck. _Wow, wait until Mama and Tata hear about this..._ He wanted to ask why Muammar was buying so many chocolate bars, but decided not to ask. Muammar paid for his chocolate, told the cashier to keep the change and, when he and Dimitru had gone outside, Mu offered the minder a chocolate bar. Dimitru accepted it, and although he tried to keep looking serious and stern, a small smile did curl his lips.

 

_Back at the apartment..._

 

 

The sky was beginning to turn blue and dark by the time Muammar and Dumitri got back. Dumitri made sure Muammar got in before leaving, eating the chocolate bar that the Libyan leader had offered him.

He went upstairs and knocked 'properly' on the bedroom door. 'It's me, can I come in?'

'Yes, Muammar.'

Muammar walked in, sat on the bed and placed the carrier bag full of chocolate bars on the bedside table. He took his shoes off and lay on the bed. 'Hello again, habibi.'

'Hello, dragă... how much of that sickly câcat did you buy?!'

'Enough.'

'Did you get any of the dark and extreme câcat?'

'I did, why?'

Nicolae wanted to get his own back on Muammar for calling him a khara, even though they only had several hours left together. It would be months before they saw each other again, but Nico had to seize this opportunity...

'Try it.'

'You hate chocolate.'

'Just try it.'

Muammar opened the bar meticulously and bit a corner of it. 'Hmm, it's strong but... yes, it's good.'

But after two pieces, the taste had gotten too strong, and now Muammar was having a bit of a coughing fit.

'Too extreme, dragă?'

'Nico, please,' Muammar replied with a cough. It took a few sips of water to make the cough go away, and to get rid of the taste.

'Habibi, I believe I said I'd repay you anyway you wanted...'


End file.
